Or at least this is my truth. What happens in my heart. Some people are better able at finding a happy medium. Yeah, that's never been one of my gifts.
I named him. I liked his first name so I would definitely keep it but he needed a middle name. I searched meaning of names to find one that was strong and fit what I knew of him. Something that highlighted the smile that stole my heart. A name that spoke life over him.
I found three. I wrote them out on a sticky note and stuck them to his framed picture that sits right next to my computer. I asked the Lord to guide me. I believe a name is a big deal. After a little while I narrowed it down and picked.
He had a name. It was written on my heart.
I would find myself daydreaming of life with him. Walking along holding his hand, our differing skin tones blending imperfectly perfect together. Of him snug against my back when his little legs were worn out from walking. I could picture rocking him to sleep at night. Safely tucking him into bed and gently kissing his forehead just before whispering words that pour from a momma's soul.
The name, the identity son rolled off my tongue with such ease and joy. Son. My son.
I could, I would.
Momma. One word with power to slay a thousand fire breathing dragons. The one word identity I had waited my whole life to be granted. To be someone's momma, to be his mommy. My heart fluttered with the possibility.
Then in one instant it was all gone. He would never be mine. He would not be my son and I would not be his mommy.
In the moments when I thought that my heart might literally shatter into a million pieces I had to choose. I had to choose - Surrender or Bitter Offense. I weakly chose to surrender. I surrendered myself into a heep of tears on my floor. I surrendered myself into the arms of Jesus even though I was angry at Him. I surrendered myself, honestly pouring out my deep pain and grief of loss.
I believe Jesus brought this little brown eyed boy into my life on purpose. However that thought did not bring comfort to my aching and breaking heart. That was my accusation against the Lord - You brought him into my life! You allowed me to love him more than I have ever loved a child before! You allowed me to name him! How could you!?!?! How could you do this Jesus?!?!
Gasping for air between sobes and groans too deep to comprehend I found my heart truly and completely broken for the reality of children, orphans [single-parent or double-parent], the least of these around the world.
From my tear stained rug I cried out and begged the Father to be with him. To heal his body from yet another bout of sickness. To hold him tight and protect him as he sleeps. To watch over him while he is awake. To feed him, clothe him, bathe him, to provide for his every need. To be what I and his momma can't be. I asked Holy Spirit to plant the truth deep in his little heart that he is wildly and deeply loved by an amazing Heavenly Father and by me.
Even though my arms ached, still do, I whispered a prayer of thanks for protecting my heart from the ultimate break - of physically holding him in my arms then having to let him go. Jesus knew even better than I did that I never could have handled that.
His picture still sits on my desk next to my computer. I think about him daily. I pray for him. I dream of one day meeting him face to face.
I still believe Jesus brought him to me on purpose. I am searching for the why and asking what's next. I'm waiting to hear and until I do, I continue to pray.
***
Within days of these heart breaking moments I began seeing adoption blogs exploding with very needed information on the realities of the world's orphan crisis. Thoughts on Birth Moms (First Moms), adoption ethics and lack thereof, the real definition of an Orphan, etc. I needed these posts! They oddly brought great comfort to my weary soul.
My heart began to be drawn to his mom's story. I wanted to know, I needed to know, is she ok? Is she healthy? What brought her to the place that she could no longer be his momma? My heart is broken and I didn't carry him for nine months in my womb, give birth to him, hold him in my arms, and then hand him over to an orphanage because I could not provide for him.
Suddenly my grief wrapped its arms around this woman. My heart broke for her. And I found myself again in a pool of tears on the floor. Begging the Father to make a way for momma and son to be together! For no son should go to bed sick without the care and arms of his momma. And no momma should live her life without her son because she is poor.
***
Saying goodbye before you ever say hello is a pain that has opened my heart in ways that only Jesus can. He is close to the broken hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
You are a wise woman Nicole!
ReplyDeleteI am blessed to read as the words spill from your heart!
Praying for Mommas and Sons along with you!